"It says the hotel they booked for us is this next block on the left." Jason looked up from his phone GPS.
She turned into the parking lot of a two-story, decent looking hotel in the small town. "Well, it's not a backalley shack, and we're half way to Florida," she smiled and glanced at the clock. Half past eleven.
His eye nar rowed in on a group of people standing around a truck and drinking in the back corner of the lot. "I have doubts we're going to be staying here."
"It's almost an hour to the next place, according to the GPS. It can't be that bad. We just sleep and get up at daybreak." She grabbed her coat and popped the trunk. Jason slid out too, wearing the plastic mask.
He met her at the trunk. "Put your coat on," he ordered in a low voice tinged with stress. Then he grabbed both their suitcases quick. "Come on." It was a command to follow. Now.
Something had him worried. Her pulse quickened. Whenever the SEAL's instincts came out, she obeyed without question because he always had good reason. She glanced at him. Every line of his face looked tense, and she had to trot to keep up with his pace.
Someone whistled.
A vulnerable chill ran through her. Whether just paranoia from the rape, or instinct and premonition, she needed to be closer to Jason's safety. Without looking around, she grabbed Jason's arm being his hands held the suitcases. He should set them down so they could pull them, and then she could be closer to him. Ah, but the wheels on pavement would block out hearing footsteps approach. Smart man.
"Hey, sexy ass! Come on over and join our party!" a male voice called from across the parking lot. "Hey, you wanna fuck, baby?!"
Female laughs twinkled.
The panic burst like a balloon and rained down. Her hands shook and knees trembled. She crushed a fistful of his coat in her hand. The beating of her heart slammed against her ribs, threatening to crack them. Shit, there were five guys and one of Jason. Gang rape.
"Emma," Jason's voice cut in calm and soothing. "It's just crass talk. I'm not going to let them hurt you. Run ahead and get the key. It's under Jason Smith," he ordered. "I'm ten steps behind you."
She hurried without looking obvious and glanced out of the corner of her eye. Three large men stood beside the truck and watched with interest, and two couples sat in the back of the pickup making out. Darting inside, she trotted over to the desk clerk. "We have a room under Jason Smith for tonight. We're a bit in a hurry." Her voice quivered. She glanced over her shoulder to see Jason come through the doors.
The male clerk typed into the computer. "Prepaid?"
"Um, I think so." She glanced back. The party walked toward the glassdoors, hanging on each other and looking drunk.
Jason came up to the desk. "Keys now," he ordered and held out his hand. "And call the cops."
"What?" the man asked in confusion and looked up from the computer.
"Emma, get around the corner." He quickly shrugged off his coat and shoved her suitcase and his coat around the wall indentation leading to the reception desk. Then he returned to stand at the desk as if he was a single man checking in while she slipped out of sight.
"Hey, where'd she go? Dude, did you just come in here with a chick?" one of the men asked.
"I think you have me mistaken for someone else," Jason said calmly.
She tensed. These thugs would give Jason a hard time about the mask.
"Here are your keys, Mr. Smith. Room 246," the clerk said.
She squeezed her eyes shut. The idiot had just given away their alias and room number.
"Are you sure, man?" the guy pressed.
"I'm here on business. Good night, gentlemen." But Jason's footsteps didn't click across the tile floor.
High heels clicked on the floor. "Hey, sexy," a woman purred. "You wanna come with us? I'm free for someone with a bod like yours."
Her hands fisted. The panic dissipated a bit. The slut had better not touch him.
"Thank you, but it's late and I need to be up quite early for a flight," Jason replied, as cool as could be.
"No prostitution in here," the clerk said.
"I'm not. I said 'free,'" the woman snickered.
"You look like you need to get laid," another female voice added. "Come on, honey. I do whatever, your choice."
She ground her teeth, about ready to leap out and defend her man's honor. Now her heart beat with anger.
"Thank you, ladies, but I really must respectfully decline the offer."
Oh god. His manners alone would only make them itch to sink their claws into him.
"You sound like a highbred gentleman," the second woman purred in a way that sounded like she was probably touching him. "What's with the mask, sweetheart?"
Something tickled the top of her foot through the tennis shoe. She looked down. Slapping a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming, she jumped nearly five feet. A big, fat cockroach skittered away. No way in hell would they stay here for the night.
"Goodnight, ladies," he answered a bit more forcefully.
One of the men stepped around and must've blocked Jason. She had to press against the wall to stay out of view. "What's the matter? Are our girls not good enough for ya?"
"It's not anything against the ladies. I simply need to get up in five hours and am tired. Excuse me."
"I don't think so," the man snarled.
Think, think! A fight of five men against Jason, he had an injured side, and they had a sexual interest in her. Think! No man would want to be within fifty feet of a laboring woman. She grabbed his coat, jammed it under her waist-length one, and stepped around the corner holding her back and pulling the suitcase. "The baby's coming! Now!"
Everyone looked at her in shock, even Jason.
The man who looked like he'd been about to throw Jason a punch glanced at her and then Jason in confusion.
She doubled over and let out a howl of pain to distract them again. "My water broke!" She stumbled over to Jason and grabbed his arm. "Take me to the hospital," she panted.
The clerk grabbed the phone. "I'll call an ambulance."
"No, it'll take too long to wait. Oh gooooood!" she screamed and doubled over again, breathing hard.
"Alright, alright!" Jason flung the key on the counter and swung her up into his arms. "Grab the suitcases! I'll pull up the car!" He ran out the door with her scream of pain echoing.
He ran across the parking lot carrying her as if she weighed a feather. "Thank you. I expected to get a mouthful of teeth."
She glanced over his shoulder to see the group coming out the doors with the suitcases. "They're watching." She covered his ear next to her and let out a scream of pain.
"God, Emma. If I wasn't terrified of childbirth before, I am now," he laughed quietly and set her in the passenger seat. He ran around and climbed in and then tore through the parking lot to the door.
She cracked the window. Just in case they wanted to cause trouble yet, she let out another howl when he whipped up to the door and popped the trunk. "I gotta push!" Then she let out a terrible agonized grunt.
The trunk slammed shut with the suitcases. "Go! Go!" one of the guys barked.
Jason floored it.
As soon as they were in the clear, she pulled out his jacket. He belly laughed and slowed down their speed. "That was amazing, Emma!" He caught her hand and kissed it.
Something tickled on her scalp. "Shit." She leaned down and shook her hair out. It was probably a cockroach. Oh god, oh god, oh god. "Jason!"
"What are you doing?"
"A cockroach crawled across my foot there. It feels like there's something in my hair," she whimpered.
He pulled over and flipped on the cabin light, remaining completely calm. "Hold still." Then he dug through her hair. He froze. "Just be calm. There's a little gnat," he said, as calm as could be. Then he dug very slow, his other hand rolling down the window.
"Oh god, what is it?" Should she scream?
"It's just a little bug, sweetheart." He snatched a fresh napkin out of the console and then reached up to her hair. He wouldn't use a napkin for a gnat. Then he flung something out the window and the napkin.
She screamed, more for the sake that he found anything.
"It's just a little bug," he said simply. "We gotta work on your screaming over things," he teased. Then he pulled into a gas station at the end of the block. "Hop out."
"Why?" But he was already out. She scrambled out, and he came around under the florescent lights.
"Bend down."
"What?"
He pushed on her back so she bent over with her head down. Then he started digging through her hair.
"What did you find?" she whimpered and curled her hands to her chest. Her heart raced. It was probably something gross.
"Emma, be still." He sounded serious. Then he shook out a section of her hair. Three small cockroaches less than an inch big fell on the ground.
She screamed in earnest this time.
Two hours later, she scrubbed her hair for the third time in a very expensive five-star hotel room Jason had bought for the night. The sweet man had checked the entire room for cockroaches, spiders, bed bugs, and pretty much any other parasite. Then he'd bleached down the bathroom. One thing that came in handy having a doctor: he was very conscientious about bacteria and viruses, but he'd been full of more information about contracting diseases in public places than she'd wanted to know.
A knock on the bathroom door. He must've cracked it open because his voice came through clear. "Sweetheart, it's almost two o'clock. I checked your hair twice. Shampoo kills cockroaches, so if anything was left in your hair, it's dead."
Of course he'd been a gentleman and had let her shower first. "We probably got lice and tapeworms from them," she said, almost in tears.
"Honey, you're overtired. Come on out and dry off while I shower. I'll check your hair one more time if you want. Don't step on the floor barefoot. You don't know when these carpets were last washed. There are brand new hotel slippers right here on the floor."
When she stepped out of the bathroom a couple minutes later, he stood shirtless on the other end of the room, careful not to touch anything. Stress contorted his face. "Scoot aside. I need to get in the shower. She touched my arm, and her hygiene was impeccably disgusting. She even left a dirty handprint on my shirt. Her eyes were jaundiced like she has hepatitis, and she had mouth sores like she has herpes." The poor man shot into the bathroom. "Don't touch the trashcan because my shirt is in there." The bathroom door slammed.
Her heart melted. He'd been out here freaking about diseases but had let her wash up first. She turned and looked at the big, plush bed. The one bed. At this point, she didn't care anymore. Shuffling over in her slippers, she kicked them off and climbed in. She sank into the mattress and the cool silk sheets carressed her arms and calves not covered by her cotton nightgown. Sweet heaven. For the heck of it, she turned over a slipper even though the beige carpets looked almost new. "Ew." A light gray film of dirt barely covered the bottom. Huh. Apparently the doctor knew what he was talking about with all the germs around a hotel room.
She pulled up the covers but left the plush comforter folded down at the foot of the bed. It looked like he'd done it on purpose. Probably another hygiene reason.
He stepped out a minute later wearing slippers and pajama bottoms and towel dried his hair. He made sure to keep the towel over the right side of his face.
"Did you want the comforter down?"
"Most places only wash the sheets. The comforter can go months without washings between clients. The suitcases stay in the bathroom where they're less likely to get bed bugs if there are any. I didn't see any signs of them, and frankly, I'm too tired to care if there are."
"Ew! Oh my god, I don't want to know this stuff, Jason."
He walked over. "If you travel with me, you won't contract any parasites or disease. Do you want me to check your hair again?"
"No, I'm too tired. Do you need me to rebutterfly your wound?"
"If you don't mind." He stepped over and handed her the strips.
Once they were placed, he walked over to the other side of the bed. "Thank you. I shouldn't ask, but I'm so tired..."
She flopped back and patted the empty side. "Get in here. If we manage to have sex being this tired, freakin' kudos to us."
He laughed, turned off the light, and practically dropped onto the bed. "There's no way in hell I'm waking up before sunrise to put on a mask. If you see my face, I don't care right now." The sheets russeled.
She laughed weakly with exhaustion. "If I had the energy, I'd turn on the light so we can get the damn thing over with right now. I don't think I can lift my hand, though."
He laughed a little too hard, portraying his overtired state.
"Did you take your inhaler?"
He started laughing madly, making her laugh. "If I suffocate tonight, I don't care."
She flopped the back of her hand on his chest, too tired to pat it properly. "Go get it."
"You get it. I had to be the exterminator tonight," he laughed and then made himself cough. The sheets russeled, followed by a loud thud and a curse.
"Are you alright?" Not that she even had the energy to lift her head. And it was dark.
"Don't walk straight. There's a wall." Then he inhaled loudly with the sound of a spray.
She laughed, finding his words funny for some reason. "Oh god. You know you can be so tired it's like being drunk? This must be what it's like being drunk."
He used the inhaler again. "Probably. Never had an interest in drinking because of Da." His lilt came out, and he dropped into bed.
"This is officially the worst honeymoon ever."
He chuckled and scooted her back to spoon against his chest. "I love you, Emma." Silence. "Are you awake?" he asked softly in the dark.
She was half way to slumberland being wrapped in his arms, too exhausted to answer.
So he snuggled up to her, tangling his feet with hers. "If this was our real honeymoon, I'd fly you wherever in the world you desired," he whispered, obviously thinking she was asleep. He nuzzled against her and his arm over her hip grew heavy. "I'd wait until our honeymoon to make love so we weren't tired from the wedding. I'd wait until the second night of the trip, just enjoying holding you as my wife and talking until all hours of the morning the first couple nights. Our third night as husband and wife, I'd make love to you so gently you would only know pleasure and love. You wouldn't be scared. Marry me, Emma," he whispered, his voice trailing away in sleep. His hand gave a tired, slow stroke to her belly. "Have babies with me," he sighed. He drew his next breath deeply, finally falling asleep.
Her heart melted and shattered from his words, but he'd rebuilt it stronger and fuller. Taking a soft breath so as not to wake him, she held back the tears. Hope swelled in her chest. One day he would propose in truth. One day he would be there waiting at the alter.
